Silver Lining
by sabbe
Summary: AU. "No, I'm brilliant and resourceful. I know what I stand for. I'm not the one who spent years pledging to blood purity, only to end up switching sides. You're the one who's pathetic enough to throw yourself into the mercy of a lion's den." Then he watched her walk away. Again.
1. Chapter 1

**A sassy Hermione Granger and snarky Draco Malfoy are both trying make it through the tail end of a war. Chaos ensues.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of HP's characters or anything related because everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. Also, this my first time posting on here. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors because I don't have a beta. This fic doesn't follow J.K. Rowling's plot ending and is OOC. If that bothers you well then this is not for you.**

* * *

For five seconds, she forgot she was even in a war. And that grave error nearly cost her life.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

She closed her eyes from the blinding flash of green light.

"Granger, stop lying there useless like a flobberworm or else get out of the way."

Her eyes snapped open to see him hunched over her body. Malfoy had saved her and killed Yaxley. This was proof they were living in an alternate universe.

_Oh fantastic, he's never going to let me forget this._

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but he had already moved on.

_Git._

She hated to admit it but Malfoy was good. Almost too good. His wand technique seemed fluid and effortless. No doubt thanks to his pureblood upbringing. Although, Hermione took pride in her vast knowledge of spells (including nonverbal of course), it irritated her to no end that there were some things you couldn't learn from a textbook.

Thankfully, Ron spotted her and made his way over quickly.

"Hermione? Bloody hell. What are you doing down there?"

He pulled her upright.

"Oh you know, I just thought I'd have a bit of a lie in."

He stared at her blankly.

"I'm joking Ronald." She said, "I was attacked by Yaxley. Then Malfoy saved my arse."

She muttered the last part. Before he had a chance to reply, she felt the coin in her pocket burning hot. Oh Merlin, that could only mean Harry was in peril.

They took off in an instant to search for their best friend. Unfortunately, that wasn't an easy task. The air was thick with smoke and bodies were everywhere. The raid did not go as planned. As per usual. Suddenly, an explosion blasted about fifty feet away. When they reached their destination, both were shocked at the scene-taking place.

Harry was crumpled on the ground as Malfoy stood in front of him protectively. Five Death Eaters surrounded the two boys. She wanted to check if Harry was still breathing. Before she could make a move, Malfoy threw out a curse that slit all of the Death Eater's throats. She didn't recognize this particular spell but suspected it to be Dark Magic.

"We've got to leave now!" Malfoy yelled.

She ran over as he pulled out their portkey and the four of them disappeared.

They made it back to Grimmauld place safely. However, Harry was unconscious and bleeding profusely. Malfoy wasn't able to hold him any longer. He could barely even stand up by himself. Instead, Ron lifted Harry over his shoulder and carried him off to the infirmary station.

"What happened?" She asked.

He steadied himself by holding onto the staircase railing. "Those bastards ambushed us."

"Okay look," she replied. "Do you need help? If not, I'm going to check on Harry."

He rolled his eyes. "It's nothing I can't handle Granger. Don't fret your big, bushy head over my well-being. "

"Wouldn't dream of it Malfoy." She huffed then stalked out of the entryway.

When she entered the room, Harry was lying down as Healer Jenkins (the only healer to allowed in Grimmauld after swearing an oath to secrecy) checked his vitals.

Ron was next to his bedside with a grim look on his face.

"Is he going to be all right?" She asked, carefully.

"He lost a lot of blood and has a concussion. If you had brought him in a minute later, he might not have made it." Healer Jenkins replied.

"When will he wake up?" Ron asked.

The older woman shook her head. "Can't be sure. We just have to wait and see."

Hermione walked over to the bed and gently held Harry's limp hand.

"You've been so brave. It's almost over. We're nearly at the end."

It was a promise.

* * *

Dean had sent a Patronus to let them know the other surviving members made it back to a different safe house. Ron and Hermione talked quietly at the dinner table over supper. Malfoy still hadn't left his room.

"Why do you think he did it?"

"To save his own skin." Ron grunted."Harry saved his skinny arse in the beginning, remember?"

"I know. He's a prat but the fact is the old Malfoy would have never saved me. It'd be too completely out of character."

"He's a snake. I don't care that he's sworn allegiance to The Order. People like him never change." Ron insisted.

"He's not his father though. Yes, he made poor choices in the past. But he was just a kid. We shouldn't forget that just because the war makes us feel older than we really are. He has his whole life ahead of him. "She countered.

"I can't believe this is coming from the same Hermione Granger who slapped ferret-face in third year."

She scoffed. "That's different. He was being a spoiled brat."

"So what are you saying? Because Malfoy saved you and Harry, he deserves to be treated differently?" Ron asked, clearly disturbed at the thought.

"I'm not sure anymore." She said. "I think it can't all be black and white."

* * *

That night she felt restless again and was unable to sleep. Hermione pored over her research well into that niche of time, straddling between late night and early morning. She found herself bleary-eyed and walked downstairs to fix a cup of hot cocoa. Not in a million years did she think there was a chance of stumbling upon Draco Malfoy, frying up an omelette in his rumpled pajamas.

He made no sign of acknowledging her sudden appearance in the kitchen.

She fixed the kettle on the stove next to him. They stood less than a foot apart until he finished and moved his pan aside. She felt stupidly self-conscious waiting for the water boil, as he ate his food in silence a few feet away by the island countertop.

She bit her lip and turned toward him. "Malfoy, I just want to say th—"

He cut her off. "Save it Granger. I don't want your gratitude."

"What is your problem?"

"I was afraid of this," he groaned. "I'm not here to be a fucking hero okay? I'm not one of the good guys. I'm a bad guy who did a good thing. Don't let that cloud your judgement."

"Wrong. You're an ex-bad guy who saved our lives."

He waved his hand. "Semantics."

"Then why did you do it?"

She would never admit it but that single question had kept her up all night.

Malfoy glanced down and continued to pick apart his omelette. He wanted to tell her to bugger off.

"Shacklebolt promised me when we win," he paused. "If we win then I get back the Manor and access to my Gringotts vault."

Huh. Maybe Ron was right after all. That had been known to happen occasionally.

"The only reason you saved both of our lives is so that you can hole yourself up in that extravagant living structure of yours, with enough money to put a third world country back up on its feet?" Hermione looked at him shrewdly.

This time he pointedly ignored her question and leaned back on the countertop.

"What about your plans Granger?" He drawled. "If we come out of this alive, are you gonna shack up with Weasley?"

Malfoy was taunting the former Head Girl. He merely said it to get a rise out of her as that had proven in the past to provide him some amusement. What he didn't expect was to see her normally reticent composure (at least around him) shatter right before his eyes.

"Me and Ron?" She laughed, genuinely surprised. "Merlin no, I haven't fancied him since fifth year."

Honestly, he didn't know what to make of it. He wasn't aware Granger's face could be so entirely unreserved. Hell. He didn't know any girl was capable of looking at him this way. It was a bit disconcerting.

He chewed thoughtfully on a bit of egg. "Yeah, well you're probably better off without a litter of freckly, snot nose brats running amok."

Hermione threw him a withering glare. "Better than over spoiled, sniveling, ferret face blondies." She muttered.

Before he could retort, the kettle whistled and she hurriedly fixed herself a much-deserved cup of hot cocoa. Malfoy watched her retreating figure climb up the stairs with an odd sensation settling in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

Several days later, Ron and Malfoy were sent on another mission. Hermione stayed behind to look after Harry, who still hadn't woken up yet. Healer Jenkins checked in a few times and reassured her that he just needed to rest. She spent most of her time in Harry's room. She continued her research on Horcruxes, outlined strategy plans, and even read muggle literature between work.

So far, it had been a good morning. She sat leisurely in a chair reading Pride and Prejudice over breakfast.

Harry's body stirred and his eyes opened, blinking rapidly. She jumped up, dropped her book, and rushed over to his side.

"Oh Harry!"

He reached for his glasses and put them on. "Mione?"

His voice sounded lethargic. Hermione shifted the pillows, allowing him to sit up properly.

She handed him a glass of water before he could even speak again.

"Thanks. Where's Ron?"

"He's on a mission. He said he'll try to return as soon as possible. How are you feeling?"

Harry returned the glass. "Really sore." He gulped. "I have to ask did Malfoy…"

She nodded solemnly. "He saved mine too."

His eyes widened. "I thought I was hallucinating. I remember the Death Eaters ambushing us. Lestrange sneaked up behind me and used the cruciatus curse, before Malfoy took him out."

Hermione immediately wrapped him up in a hug. "Mione can't breathe…"

She pulled back. "I'm sorry. I just worry about you. I keep thinking about what's going to happen in the end. I've been doing endless amounts of research and double-checking the risk assessments for these strategy plans. I want to do everything I can to make sure we defeat him."

Harry smiled. "You're brilliant you know that? I don't know where Ron and I would be without you, probably lumbering around in a forest somewhere."

She chuckled appreciatively at the comment.

He squeezed her hand. "It'll all be over soon."

* * *

Now that Harry was awake, her resolve to make it out of the war with minimal damage as possible increased by tenfold. Unfortunately, Healer Jenkins had made a fuss and ordered Harry to stay in bed for a little longer.

"Honestly," he said, exasperated. "I'm right as rain. I'd like to be able to use my legs and do something useful."

Thankfully, they were in good company. A couple of The Order members were transferred to Grimmauld place. Namely, Ginny and Neville.

When they had found out what happened to her and Harry, she noted Neville did not look too surprised by Malfoy's actions.

Ginny however doted upon Harry. Every time he smiled in her direction, she became increasingly flustered. It was amusing to say the least, because she hadn't acted this way since her younger years at Hogwarts.

One evening, the group of friends had their usual supper in Harry's room. Ginny spent the entire time feeding him. He didn't even put up a fight. In fact, he looked as if he was actually enjoying it. Weird.

Hermione didn't mind too much. She and Neville got on well enough.

"Can I ask you something Neville?"

He nodded. "Sure. Go for it."

"What do you think of Malfoy?"

Despite her incredibly vague question, he seemed to catch her drift. Maybe war made people more perceptive or she was just that obvious.

"You know if you asked me a year ago, I would have said he's a vicious school bully with his head up his own arse." He paused for effect.

She tried to keep a straight face and failed. No one had ever heard Neville use that sort of language.

"No, you wouldn't."

"Okay, no I probably wouldn't say those exact words. However, I would definitely be thinking it." He conceded, and then continued. "He's still Malfoy and has that essence of prat in him. But without Hogwarts, his Death Eater father, being flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, he's almost a decent fellow."

Hermione felt a little relieved. Maybe she wasn't entirely neurotic for entertaining the thought of Draco Malfoy being capable of more than just the son of an Ex-Death Eater.

"So you've talked to him then?" she asked.

"A few times. Like I said he's not too bad once you get past the entitlement and snark. But don't tell Ron, he'll probably call me a traitor." He said, quickly.

* * *

Ron did return soon. Malfoy followed suit, much to Ron's displeasure. Harry was currently playing wizard's chess with the older redhead. Ginny and Neville were in the kitchen fixing something for everyone to eat. Malfoy was nowhere in sight (probably locked away in his room again). Hermione sat by her best friends, continuing to read her book. Grimmauld Place hadn't been this full of people in ages, not since the beginning of the war. She had to admit it was a welcoming change and a lovely distraction.

The next day, Shacklebolt stopped by to check on her research and outlines.

"I want you and Malfoy to finalize the battle plans for the last attack before we present them to rest of The Order." He said.

"Why Malfoy and not Harry?" She asked. "How do you know it's the last one?"

Shacklebolt looked at her wearily. "Harry needs to focus on his task. You know that it can't be easy for him. Malfoy is familiar with their defensive tactics and well you've seen him fight. As for this last attack, maybe it's premature, but call it intuition. A lot of us can feel it ending and it's not just on our side. There are rumors that the Death Eaters are slowing down too."

Hermione didn't need to be told twice.

She finally approached Malfoy when he came out of hiding, which pretty much only happened when he needed to visit the kitchen, bathroom, or library. She knew he was avoiding everyone, probably didn't fancy the idea of being stuck in a house full of former Gryffindor's. However, he was perfectly cordial to anyone he ran into (okay except for Ron) on his way to one of the three destinations.

And that is how she found him in the library. She explained Shacklebolts orders and led him to a table where they could both sit.

"Alright Granger, let me have a look at these so-called ingenious plans of yours."

Malfoy then studied the outlines she had diligently worked on for weeks.

"Granger."

She looked up from her notes to see him frowning.

"Yes, Malfoy?"

"Why did you not draw up an emergency exit strategy?"

She mirrored his expression.

"What purpose do we have for an emergency exit strategy?"

He stared at Hermione the way Snape often did at Neville during Potions.

"We need a back up plan in case we lose, Potter dies, or both." He said, bluntly.

She gaped at him. "Riddle isn't going to win. And Harry is certainly not going to die. Why do you think I did all of this research and preparation? I can assure you, I didn't do it for a lark."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Don't be daft Granger. You out of everyone should know better. Do you remember the prophecy? You have to accept there are consequences. Your plan isn't foolproof."

"I'm not daft. Last time I checked, I'm still the brightest witch of our age. We don't need to waste time writing up an extra plan we're not going to use in the first place." She replied, haughtily.

He balled up his fists. "That may have meant something back at Hogwarts, but without your Head Girl badge and neurotic need to answer every question in class, what's left?" He snarled. "Just another muggle-born."

Immediately, the atmosphere shifted between them. Somehow their conversation broached a subject both of them had avoided discussing at all costs. Even Malfoy, was surprised by the malice in his tone. He hadn't acted viciously towards Granger once during the war until now. But he couldn't help that this witch was getting under his skin. Despite the fact, he'd been brought up to believe muggle-borns like her were beneath him, he honestly didn't care about that anymore. Call it self-preservation. His survival meant everything to him. Yet it had slipped out. Old habits die hard. More importantly, she was bossy as hell and expected no one to challenge her. She thought no one could possibly prove her wrong. He had to make her see because whether he liked it or not, his fate was now in her hands. Bloody hell, she was going to be the death of him.

His words stung terribly. She tried to hide it, but he saw the hurt in those damn big brown eyes of hers. Malfoy instantly regretted the words that had flown out of his aristocratic mouth.

Hermione didn't back down.

"No, I'm brilliant and resourceful. I know what I stand for. I'm not the one who spent years pledging to blood purity, only to end up switching sides. You're the one who's pathetic enough to throw yourself into the mercy of a lion's den."

Then he watched her walk away. Again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: All work and rights belong to J.K. Rowling.**

**Guys, I don't think I'm cut out for writing fan fiction. I don't know how you all do it. Originally, I wanted to write this story in two-parts, but since I've been behind schedule for updating (work, school, etc.) I have decided to split it up into three chapters. Besides three is my lucky number. Again no beta, so sorry for any grammatical errors. Constructive feedback is appreciated!**

Hermione hadn't spoken to him in three days, not that he was counting or anything. He sat at the dinner table with a bottle of Firewhisky. It was late. And Draco Malfoy was gloriously drunk. Then Potter found him. Funny, he used to think Saint Potter was the worst out of everyone in Hogwarts. An angsty, sorry excuse of a hero. Maybe the truth was eleven year old Draco never got over the fact that his offer of friendship had been rejected by the boy who lived. A tragic blow to his ego.

After all, he was a _Malfoy_. He was accustomed to getting whatever he wished.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Getting hammered," he slurred. "You should try it sometime. Then you wouldn't have that look on your face like everyone you love is dead at least not yet anyway."

By some miracle, Harry didn't punch him in the face. Instead he sat down across from the blond.

"You're a prick, you know that?"

Malfoy took another swig from the nearly empty bottle.

"Yeah, I do. Thanks to you and everyone in this dump, especially the know-it-all."

Harry stiffened in response. "You mean Hermione? Did something happen between you two? I swear if you hurt her..."

"Lay off, Potter. I didn't put a hand on Granger. We just had a minor disagreement."

"About what?"

"Hand me another Firewhisky and I'll tell you."

Harry sighed. Reluctantly, he stood up and walked over to a kitchen cabinet. He came back with two glasses and another bottle. Malfoy poured out the liquor for both them.

"Granger is under the impression that her plans are infallible. Her unyielding faith in you is almost endearing, if it weren't for the fact that it may cost other people's lives, including mine."

Harry took a gulp of his drink.

"I trust Hermione. You don't know her like I do. She doesn't half-ass anything."

Malfoy shook his head. "I'm not denying that, alright? But even if you're successful with your task and defeat the Dark Lord, what about the surviving Death Eaters? It will be impossible to catch them all at once. Are you just going to leave it up to the Ministry to pick up the pieces?"

Harry seemed to take this into consideration.

"Why do you care so much? I thought all you wanted was your manor and inheritence returned safely."

"Because I plan on living a very long life, which doesn't include constantly hiding from ex-Death Eaters who consider me a blood traitor." He explained.

"Fine. I'll talk to her."

Malfoy almost spat out his drink. "What?"

This time Harry rolled his eyes. "I'll talk to Hermione. But you should apologize to her."

He pretended to gag.

Harry snatched the bottle out of his hands. "Hey, I wasn't finished with that!"

"Too bad. Go to bed. You look like shit, Malfoy."

* * *

She refused to speak to Malfoy because he really was still a spiteful bully who disregarded other people's feelings.

_Who does he think he is? As if he has the right to pass judgement on anyone. _

"I thought I might find you here."

Unsurprisingly, Harry discovered Hermione with her nose in a book.

"You're far too clever for your own good." She said, dryly.

For the past few days, she had stowed away in one of the rooms she claimed as a hideout.

Her confrontation with Malfoy made her unwilling to walk about freely as before, not that he was seeking her out or anything.

"Did you sleep at all last night? You look tired."

She snorted. "You mean I look like shit."

Harry chuckled. "Well yeah, but if it's any consolation Mal-"

"Don't say his name."

Harry thought carefully on what he should say next.

"I ran into him last night drinking an entire bottle of Firewhisky."

Hermione didn't react. She was stone cold fox.

"Look, Ron might not get it but I do. You're in close proximity with someone who you used to believe represents everything you're fighting against. It's confusing as hell. And it's funny;he's in the same exact position, only on the opposite side. I'm not you. I'm not going to pretend I know what it's like to be discriminated against for being muggle-born, even though I grew up with muggles. I'm not his biggest fan. I doubt I ever will be. He's a Slytherin to the core but he's not a Death Eater."

She looked up at him warily. "What do you want, Harry?"

"I think you should hear him out."

Hermione shook her head. "He should be groveling on his knees for my forgiveness."

"I can probably arrange that." Harry said, grinning.

"It wasn't just the argument, you know. He questioned who I am. He was born and raised to be prejudice, and part of me wants to hate him for it. I'm intelligent and highly logical, yet because I'm a mudblood I'm considered unworthy by traditional wizarding families like the Malfoys. When I showed him those plans, he talked down to me as if I were a stupid outsider who couldn't possibly understand the inner workings of pureblood society. I sort of lost it." She paused. "I've been thinking about this for a long time; it's going to take more than just a war to change his ways, not to mention the rest of the wizarding world too."

They both were silent for a minute.

Harry put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"You're right as always. It's not enough for me to defeat Riddle that's why we need your help to create a backup plan and figure out what to do after the battle."

Hermione frowned. "Then I'm going to need to do more research. We're running out of time."

* * *

She stood in front of his bedroom door. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. The Gryffindor in her was saying to just get it over with already. However, her pride was making her stall.

Hermione took a deep breath. Godric, help her soul.

She knocked quietly as possible. There was no answer.

_Okay, no rush. I can come back another time. _

Then suddenly the door creaked open. And there stood Malfoy in all his prattish glory.

"Granger?"

"Um is this a bad time?"

He raised an eyebrow. "No, not at all. I'm just surprised. Last time I checked, you were still avoiding me like the plague."

"Yes, well I want to give you my drafts for the updated battle strategies, which includes a back up plan and organized profiles of all the Death Eaters known, so we can track them down afterwards."

Hermione shoved the hefty stack of papers in his direction.

Malfoy looked stunned. But he accepted them nonetheless.

There was an awkward silence and he felt compelled to break it.

"I'll review all of these tonight and give them back to you in the morning." He said. "Unless you want to go over them together now?"

She hesitated. He still hadn't apologized. And he was still well _him_.

"No, I don't think that's a good idea. I'll come by tomorrow morning to check in though."

She turned to leave.

"Granger wait..."

She was tempted to ignore him but she was curious to hear what he had to say.

"Yeah?"

His grey eyes settled on her. "Look, I know Potter probably talked you into this and he's saved my arse more times than I count, so I owe him." He let out a frustrated sigh. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry."

"You're _what?_" She asked.

He grimaced. "Oh don't make me say it again."

"I don't think you'd be capable of saying it again without having an aneurysm."

"So do you forgive me?"

"I didn't realize Malfoy's sought validation from others. I thought you were all made of marble."

He could practically hear her smirking.

"You're not going let me off easy, are you?"

"Not a chance. I'll see you in the morning. Good night."

* * *

Surprisingly, she and Malfoy made a good team.

He certainly wasn't the brightest during school but he turned out to be organized and he had a photographic memory, which was extremely helpful.

They decided to present the strategy plans the day after tomorrow.

Hermione's head was buzzing with energy.

_This is it. After everything we've gone through. It all comes down to this. _

At the meeting, she sat down between Harry and Ron while Shacklebolt went over their main objectives. Malfoy was sitting next to Tonks and almost looked as if he was enjoying a conversation with her and Remus. Huh. Maybe he wasn't hopeless after all.

"Alright now Hermione and Draco have prepared the plans for this last battle, so everyone listen up for your own good." He said, gruffly.

The room immediately quieted down.

Malfoy followed Hermione as she shuffled to the front.

He let her lead. She was in her element. Yes, he helped but they were originally her plans. He had to admit she was rather brilliant and resourceful, even if she did annoy him with her self-righteous agendas.

"Are there any questions?"

Malfoy blinked.

It was over, already?

Potter started talking about team morale and he had sort of tuned him out. Oh well, at least he had memorized the plans.

Afterwards, Shacklebolt clapped him on the back. "Good job, Draco."

He looked at the intimidating figure and merely shrugged. "Granger worked out the planning. I just reviewed it. If anything, you should thank her."

Hermione stood a few feet away. He ignored the glances she threw in his direction.

The unsettling sensation in the pit of his stomach expanded.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: All HP characters and anything related to HP belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**Thanks IllusiveButterfly for the review! Any constructive reviews and feedback is appreciated.**

Hermione woke up from another nightmare. She gave up on sleep at this point. Honestly, she was too afraid to close her eyes. Every time she tried, all she could see was red. She was tempted to visit Harry or Ron but they already had their heartfelt talk earlier. They had no illusions about the situation. Harry told them what it would take to complete his task. Although The Prophecy could be interpreted in several different ways, it didn't change the fact that Harry still had to confront Riddle face-to-face. The Boy Who Lived would risk his life to save everyone else in both the muggle and wizarding world. Hermione cursed the day Riddle was born.

She needed a drink. Unfortunately, alcohol was not an option.

Hermione threw the covers off her body and sat up from bed. It was far too quiet. She was going to go mad if she continued to lay there for one more minute, so off she went. The balcony at Grimmauld Place was hardly ever used. It was tiny, barely the size of an alcove. But it offered something she needed in that very moment: fresh air. If she were home, she would have walked to her favorite park. Well it wasn't really a park, more like a neighborhood playground complete with one rusty swing set and a creek. She spent most of her time there before she received her Hogwarts letter. The swing set would creak noisily as she pumped her small legs back and forth with great vigor. No matter how high she went, she was never afraid. Hermione Granger had been fearless. Of course that was before she entered the wizarding world and discovered that an evil, megalomaniac was trying to kill one of her best friend's.

She walked out to the confined space, only to find Draco Malfoy. Obviously, the Gods must have decided to look down unfavorably toward her tonight. He just stared at her and then continued to take a drag of his cigarette. It was disarming. The sight of the cigarette dangling from his mouth. The act of him doing something so...muggle made Hermione feel as if her heart was lodged in her throat.

_What the hell? _

"I see you couldn't sleep either."

She took a deep breath then exhaled slowly, watching a cloud of air puff out in front her just like the smoke he blew out from those lips. Why couldn't she stop staring at his mouth? Seriously.

"There's too much on my mind."

He nodded and offered her the cigarette.

She shook her head. "No thanks. I don't smoke." She said. "When did you start?"

Malfoy shrugged in a nonchalant manner.

"Sixth year," He explained."I was under a lot of stress."

Right. Of course. The year he had been subjected to the task of killing Dumbledore.

How did so much change in only two years? Before the two of them weren't capable of being in the same room without glaring at each  
other. Yet here they were on a tiny balcony, practically exchanging pleasantries before going off to fight for their lives.

"Do you think we'll win?"

Malfoy's eyes closed briefly before he answered, "I don't know, Granger. I'll probably die trying to make sure we do though. I've got nothing to lose."

Hermione looked at him in disbelief. "That's not true..."

He snorted. "I have no family, honor, or money. What's left?"

She bit her lip. "You have your whole life ahead of you."

The words slipped out unconsciously from her previous conversation with Ron. The look Malfoy gave her for some unexplainable reason caused her cheeks to flush (out of embarrassment, surely). Her body felt like molten, liquid rock.

_I did not just say that out loud._

She expected him to mock her. Instead he chuckled. She became fully aware that it wasn't a terrible sound.

"Maybe."

Neither of them spoke for a bit. Strangely, it didn't bother her. It was almost a comfortable silence. When her eyelids started to feel heavy, she decided it was best to go back to her room.

She opened her mouth to say something but what could she possibly say? Good luck? Well that sounded incredibly stupid. Next thing she knew Malfoy was standing right in front of her, she had to tilt her head up slightly to look at him properly. Her breath hitched at how close he was to her body. He tucked one of the unruly curls behind her ear and leaned in. His lips brushed against her cheek. She stood frozen, not knowing how to respond.

"I'll see you on the other side." He said.

It sounded like a vow.

* * *

The thing about war was that there was never a clear winner until after the damage had been done. Hermione didn't know when the battle really began but she knew how it ended. It ended with flashes of green light, blood everywhere, and Harry barely alive but alive nonetheless.

Tom Riddle was finally dead.

The Death Eaters immediately apparated to their hideouts in remote locations. Hermione knew the Ministry had a team of Aurors already stationed in each of them, thanks to The Order.

She saw Malfoy fighting alongside Neville before all hell broke loose. The platinum blond hair was unmistakable. His words from that night still echoed in her head.

_I'll see you on the other side._

* * *

Draco Malfoy was officially a free wizard. He would never have to hideout in a dump like Grimmauld Place again and for that he was grateful. He hated to admit it but he owed Harry. He was actually relieved to hear the boy hero had made it back alive. He also found himself searching for a certain bushy head while out in the rubble. He didn't know what came over him that night with Granger. It was as if he had been imperiused and then he _almost_ kissed her?

_Father is probably rolling over in his grave right now as we speak._

Well there was no denying it now. Draco was attracted to a know-it-all, but even he knew she was much more than just a know-it-all. He'd have to be daft to think otherwise.

He ended up swamped for weeks in paperwork. The Ministry seemed to take some sort of sadistic pleasure out of making him sign every damn thing. In the end, he decided to give over the property to the Ministry. He would decide what items he wanted to keep and sell. The Manor was filled with too much history and Dark Magic. He wanted nothing to do with it. After all, he had his whole life ahead of him.

* * *

Hermione and Ron had followed Harry to St Mungo's where he was taken under Urgent Care. He stayed in bed with Ginny at his side for a few weeks. The Healers wanted to make sure that he was in good health and there were no side effects from the Dark Magic.

Once he was released, there was celebration dinner and party at the Weasley's house. Hermione lounged in a chair on the back porch, watching Harry and the others play a game of quidditch. Despite the damage from the war and loss of loved ones, she could hear laughter, it wasn't perfect but it was a start.

She hadn't seen Malfoy since the battle. Shacklebolt mentioned he was dealing with paperwork for his inheritance and the Manor. Part of her had hoped he would show up at the dinner celebration. All The Order members, family, and friends were invited. But who was she kidding? Malfoy stepping within one mile of the Burrow? Not a chance.

Hermione needed to confront him. Something happened that night. _Something_ had shifted between the two of them. It didn't make any logical sense. He was a _Malfoy_. There was no way that he...she couldn't even make herself say it.

She didn't stay too long at the party, which had quickly deteriorated to Harry and Ron drunkenly attempting to play Exploding Snap. The other members were egging them on. Hermione shook her head in amusement.

She said her goodbyes to everyone then apparated to a secluded area around the corner of her building. She had purchased a small flat in muggle London with the money saved by her parents that was meant to be a graduation gift. Her mind flooded with guilt at the thought of them in Australia. At least they were safe and sound, even if they didn't know who she was anymore.

She reached inside her purse for her key while standing in front of the steps.

"Took you long enough."

Her eyes snapped up to find none other than Draco Malfoy.

"How the hell do you know where I live?" She demanded.

He smirked. "Tsk. Mind your language, Granger."

She put a hand on her hip. "Don't you dare reprimand me. I haven't seen you in nearly a month and you just show up at my building without any notice. Now tell me how you got my address."

"Harry," He said, simply.

It was official. She was going to kill The Boy Who Lived.

_Wait. Did he say, Harry?_

Hermione let out an offended huff. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

He started walking down the steps.

"I thought it'd be obvious. And you claim to be the brightest witch of our age."

She hesitated for a second. "Look about that night...I don't think it's going to work. Whatever was going on between us. It was completely circumstantial."

He was getting closer. Oh for Godric sake, he was grinning too. The pompous git.

"Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?"

Malfoy was looking down at her in _that_ way again.

She blinked. "There's no such thing as_—_"

When he reached the bottom step, he kissed her, effectively cutting off Hermione's train of thought. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

As it turned out, that _something_ was rather extraordinary.

FIN


End file.
